Consigned to Oblivion
by DigiNyxx
Summary: A powerful blood magic ritual banishes Hawke into her own worst nightmares. Fenris rallies the companions and they undertake the task of entering her psyche to bring her back. As they delve deeper and deeper, they discover that Hawke is not all that she seems. Can she be saved, or is she beyond help? Repost with major rewrites.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is a repost of a story I started earlier this year. I decided to take the story down in order to do some major re-writes. I'm much happier with the new version as it makes more sense and there's less plot holes. A big thank you to my beautiful betas – Icy and VerityPaige.

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**Consigned to Oblivion**

**Chapter 1**

Hightown was dark and gloomy under the overcast sky. There was a sense of foreboding in the air. The people were absent from the street due to the late hour, and only a few guards patrolled the wealthiest part of Kirkwall. They patrolled in pairs, never straying too far from each other or the safety of a street lamps. The eerie atmosphere had even forced the small group of whores who plied their trade in the Red Lantern District to seek refuge within the Blooming Rose.

Four robed figures silently made their way up the stairs that lead to the Hightown estates. They had expertly plotted their movement through the city to ensure that no one saw them, using their dark arts to distract and manipulate where necessary. It would do no good to be caught and have the Templars brought down upon them before their task was complete.

They gathered in the courtyard outside the abandoned Tethras estate. Rumour had its previous owner, Bartrand Tethras, had gone insane and killed most of his household before being committed to an asylum. There had been rumours of strange goings on in the house in the years that followed, with activity reaching its pinnacle over the past two months. None had dared enter the house, with exception of Rose Hawke, the famous Champion of Kirkwall.

It was Hawke whom the four mages sought, but not to enlist her aid. They had something much more sinister in mind – revenge.

A patron of the Hanged Man who was well into his cups had informed them that the Champion would be at the Tethras estate that very evening. She would be accompanying her friend Varric Tethras, the younger brother of the unfortunate Bartrand, to investigate the reported paranormal activity. Such a chance to complete their assignment was not to be ignored. Though it would have been easier to wait and ambush the Champion outside the city, the blood mages were instructed to complete the deed as soon as possible by their employer.

They set their trap at the bottom of the stairwell that lead up to the Tethras estate. A hex of forbidding was cast across the square, encouraging the guards on patrol to leave the area and stay away. Palms were cut and bled into a large basin, which already contained a black, tar-like substance. All it would take to complete the curse was a final offering of blood and the final incantation, a task that fell to the leader of the group. He stood in the shadows and cast an invisibility spell upon himself. The sound of the estate door opening was the cue for the other blood mages to get into position for the ambush and wait for the right moment to strike.

Hawke huffed a huge sigh as she and her companions exited the house. They paused at the top of the stairs and took a moment to rest. She'd seen a lot of things in her time, but an Ethereal Golem was a new one for her journal. She hoped she had done the right thing in letting Varric keep hold of the piece of the red lyrium that was at the centre of all the trouble. It was all that was left of the Idol that they had found in the Deep Roads several years earlier. Bartrand had broke it up and sold it, but had kept one piece for himself. Anders hadn't agreed with her decision, but seemed placated when she requested that Varric ask Sandal to have a look at the stone before he did anything with it.

Varric approached her, visibly unsettled. It was hardly surprising after what they had encountered in the house. "Hawke," he said. "This is awkward, but ..." He stopped and scratched the back of his neck, not sure what to say.

"You! Lost for words. I should mark this day on my calendar," Hawke chuckled.

"Enjoy this while it lasts. It might never happen again." He was solemn and sincere, which was very out of character for the normally wise-cracking dwarf. "Look, I just wanted to say it's been an honour knowing you."

Hawke frowned. "Are you about to die? Am I? Why so serious all of a sudden?"

"Don't panic. I just needed to get that off my chest. You know it's six years today? Six years since I found you dragging your tail out of Bartrand's office."

"It's incredible how time flies when you're having fun," she reflected. Fun was certainly one way to describe the seven years that she had spent in Kirkwall.

"Tell me about it! How about we all head to the Hanged Man? I could use a drink." Varric was starting to sound like his usual, charming self again, and this made Hawke smile.

"I like this plan. Shall we?" said Hawke, gesturing the stairway before them.

Anders remained motionless. His hackles were up. "Wait!" He called after the others, causing them to halt abruptly halfway down the steps. "Something doesn't feel right. Almost like blood magic." he said nervously.

"What's wrong?" asked Hawke, his disquiet putting her on alert. She drew her daggers and flattened herself against the wall, and gestured that the others do the same.

"Crimson Weavers? I thought we got rid of those thugs?" whispered Varric, loading Bianca with a fresh magazine of bolts.

Hawke didn't reply, her mind formulating a plan. At the bottom of the stairway was a blind corner to the right. From her viewpoint, she had no way to see what could be lurking beyond it. They would have a better chance of preventing an ambush if she scouted ahead. She descended the steps quietly and, using the blade of one of her daggers as a mirror, peered round the corner. Seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, she chose to proceed but remained cautious.

"Be ready," she warned her companions before she stepped out of cover and advanced a few paces into the open.

Anders, directly behind her, followed Hawke's lead and looked round the corner. He saw something that made him cry "WATCH OUT!" after her, but it was too late. Her foot came into contact with the faint glow of a magical trap on the ground in front of her, triggering the spell. Enveloped by a flash of white-blue light, she couldn't move or speak. She could only watch as three robed figures emerged from the shadows and began advancing on her. Anders, Fenris and Varric immediately abandoned cover and formed a battle line in front of Hawke, ready for a fight.

The first attack came from the blood mage on the left flank, who conjured a stone projectile and aimed it at Fenris. Anders threw up a defensive barrier in time to prevent the Tevinter elf from being struck in the chest. When the barrier dropped, Fenris retaliated. He charged forward, swinging his mighty sword at his would-be attacker. The blood mage dodged, but the tip of the heavy blade caught his shoulder, opening a long gash and drawing blood. Unrelenting, Fenris pivoted left and used the momentum to swing his sword, bringing it crashing into the side of blood mage's torso. The blood mage screamed in agony as the great-sword sliced through flesh and bone, splattering blood across the pavement. He fell to the ground, dead.

The blood mage on the right flank conjured a large fire ball and hurled it at Anders. The former Grey Warden neutralized it in mid-air with a powerful ice spell. Flourishing his staff, he shot one, two, three energy bolts at the blood mage. The mage dodged two bolts and deflected the third before retaliating with another fire ball. Anders tried to dodge, but wasn't fast enough. The projectile made contact with his hip, setting his robe alight. The shock made him drop his staff. As he frantically beat at the spreading flames, the blood mage charged him, striking Anders several times with heavy blows from his staff. Anders backed off, beating out the last of fire. He scowled down at the blackened fabric of his robe.

"This was my favourite robe!" Anders lunged forward, tackling the blood mage and forcing him to drop his staff in the scuffle. The two men rolled around of the pavement, punching, scratching, spitting, kicking. The blood mage pinned Anders to the ground, closed his hands around his neck and began to squeeze hard. Anders struggled to breath, and tried to throw the blood mage off without success. In desperation, he wriggled his leg free and delivered a sharp knee to the blood mage's groin. The mage squealed loudly, the shock and pain forcing him to let go. Anders used the opportunity to roll away and retrieve his staff. The blood mage, still distracted, didn't see Anders conjure a huge shard of ice and throw it toward him. The shard impaled the blood mage through his torso. Wide-eyed, blood spilling from his mouth, he fell to the ground.

Varric took on the blood mage on point, releasing a smoke grenade to disorientate her whilst he moved out of spell range. With Bianca poised, Varric shot several bolts at the reeling blood mage. One bolt struck him in the left knee, whilst the others missed their mark. The blood mage yanked out the bolt, throwing it to the ground. An evil grin spread across the blood mage's face as he used the blood from the wound to throw a lacerating curse at Varric.

The dwarf dodged to the right, but was not fast enough as the red bolt of magic clipped his shoulder, knocking him to the ground with Bianca just out of reach. As the mage was about to unleash another damaging spell, a gauntleted hand reached through his chest and pulled out his heart. The blood mage collapsed to reveal Fenris standing behind him.

Varric signed with relief. "Consider yourself on my tab for the rest of the year, elf." He winced and clutched his bleeding shoulder as he tried to stand up. "Hey Blondie," he shouted to Anders. "Little help?"

"I'll see to Hawke," Fenris said, as Anders began attending to Varric's dislocated shoulder. He could see that the paralysis hex was beginning to wear off as he approached.

"Is that all of them?" she asked him, shaking off the stiffness in her limbs as she gradually regained movement.

"I believe so. Are you alright?" said Fenris, concern in his tone.

"My pride is a little bruised. I'll have to remember to look down next time," Hawke joked. Fenris made a face that told her that he didn't think it was funny. "Really, Fenris. I'm fine. Stop worrying," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently.

Since their brief romance three years earlier, Fenris had become very protective of her. There were times (such as that moment) when Hawke thought that they could rekindle what they'd shared, but Fenris had given her no indication that he was ready or willing to resume from where they had left off. She cared for Fenris. His leaving had broken her heart, but until he could come to terms with his past, there could be nothing between them.

"Not our usual brand of blood mages. Aren't there usually shades and other demonic beings?" Varric winced as Anders gently worked the bone back into its socket.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think we've had enough exercise for one evening?" she asked sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm not complaining!" protested Varric. "Just making an observation."

"Something still doesn't feel right." murmured Anders. "I can't put my finger on it, but I've got a bad feeling ..."

"Don't say that, Blondie," interrupted Varric. "Every time someone says something that, bad stuff happ- YEEEEOOOOW! " Anders responded by applying more pressure than necessary to the dislocation.

The blood mage leader looked out from his hiding place, observing the four friends as they bantered. His brothers had been slain, but he still lived. The ritual had to be completed, and he had to act while they were distracted. Removing a dagger from his robes, he brought it swiftly across his arm, spilling blood into the prepared basin. He murmured a few words in the Tevinter tongue and the concoction in the basin began to bubble before glowing crimson red.

Hawke felt a chill run down her spine. She had no time to react as a powerful force struck, dragging her towards the mage and lifting her a few feet from the ground.

"HAWKE!" Fenris rushed to help her, but was repelled violently by an invisible force.

Anders tried and failed to dispel the barrier, depleting his mana in the process, but the magic was too strong for him. Along with Fenris and Varric, could only stare helplessly at the scene unfolding before them.

Hawke thrashed wildly within her confinement, trying to free herself. She stopped struggled when she saw the blood mage leader step out of his hiding place. Swirls of blood red, mauve and black smoke flowed from the basin he held in his hands. He ignored the shouts of Hawke's companions, his attention only on her. "Not so fast, Champion of Kirkwall!" he said. "YOU have powerful enemies. YOU have involved yourself in matters that do not concern you. My brothers and I were sent to remove you from the game."

"So you're here to kill me by talking me to death?" Hawke taunted.

"Kill you?" The blood mage began to laugh menacingly. An unnatural wind began to blow, and the sky turned black-red. "Who said anything about killing you?"

The blood mage leader uttered more words in Tevinter. Varric asked Fenris what he was saying, but the elf did not respond as he watched in horror as Hawke was enveloped by a bright light. The anguished scream of the Champion could be heard from within. Suddenly the light flashed and something tore free from Hawke's body. When the light disappeared, they could see four spectres floating around Hawke. Each one was tinted a different colour - yellow, red, blue and white – and all had physical characteristics that resembled Hawke.

The blood mage leader spoke, "These are your deepest fears, your darkest emotions. Even now they are tearing you apart. They shall continue to feast upon your soul 'till the last spark of life has been extinguished and you are naught but an empty husk!" He then slashed his own throat with the dagger. As the blood spurted from his jugular, a maelstrom of chaos surrounded Hawke and himself. The ground shook and opened to release the dark, slug-like form of a sloth demon.

Fenris couldn't stand to watch anymore. He broke away from Anders and Varric and rushed the barrier again, attempting phase through it. He pushed forward with all his might, his entire body becoming nearly transparent. As he succeeded in forcing one arm through the barrier, he could feel the magic reacting with the lyrium beneath his skin. The sensation was excruciating, forcing Fenris to pull away with a roar of pain and frustration. Feeling suddenly weakened, he collapsed to his knees. Varric and Anders ran to his side, but he weakly raised his good arm to point at the sloth demon. Varric was aghast, whilst Anders felt the anger of Justice flow through him. He almost lost control of himself when they heard the sloth demon speak.

"With the final sacrifice of blood, the pact is sealed. The sentries are posted, the prison complete."

There was another flash of light, forcing them to shield their eyes and turn away. The light quickly faded and the sloth demon was nowhere in sight.

Hawke was lying on the ground, not moving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much to everyone who has read, followed and favourited this story. A huge thank you to my reviewers, EkoCentric, AlwaysChillin98, Dame LeeLee and koolcat400. Your kind words are appreciated and also a good motivator! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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**Chapter 2**

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his burnt arm, Fenris rushed to Hawke's side, Varric and Anders close behind. He fell to his knees beside her, frantically searching for any signs of life.

Anders knelt beside him. "Let me see to her."

Fenris acquiesced without protest, wincing in pain as he moved aside. He was grateful when Varric handed him a healing potion from his belt pouch. Drinking it fast, he instantly felt the pain dampened. It would have to do for the time being. His only concern at that moment was for Hawke. He watched anxiously as Anders looked her over. "Can you heal her?"

"This is blood magic, Fenris. I doubt it will be as simple as that." Anders spoke no more, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands tinged in the bluish-green light of healing magic. "Her heartbeat is faint," he said, "and she's still breathing." Anders looked round him, nervously. "We'll need to leave. I can't work on her here without drawing attention to myself."

"After that magic show, you can be sure that the Templars will come sniffing around soon," agreed Varric. "Fenris, your place is nearby. We'll take her there."

Anders was about to lift Hawke into his arms when Fenris stopped him. "I will carry her," he insisted.

Anders frowned. "With your arm in that state? At least let me heal you first."

Fenris glared at him. He wasn't willing to let Anders waste power on him, not when Hawke was in such a bad way. "Save your magic for her. I can wait." Fenris knelt and lifted Hawke into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He then led the way to the abandoned mansion where he made his home. Anders sighed and relented, frustrated by the elf's stubbornness.

"I'm gonna go give Aveline a heads up about the dead blood mages, you know, before the Templars get there first," said Varric, as they reached the main door to the mansion.

"Good idea," agreed Anders. "Get Merrill too. She might be able to help."

Varric nodded, before walking away briskly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Take care of Hawke," he said as he disappeared around a corner.

Inside the mansion, Hawke was taken to Fenris's room and laid down on the bed. After removing Hawke's armour and boots, Anders suggested that Fenris to wait by the fire so he could work without interruption. He gave the elf another healing potion to drink before turning his attention to Hawke.

He began by checking her life signs once again. Her heartbeat was still weak, but had not worsened since they moved her. Her breathing was slow and shallow, as if she were in a deep sleep. Once her physical condition was established, he went to work, attempting to fix the damage that had been done.

At first he tried to dispel the curse, but found the spell to be more draining than it should. In casting it, he felt as if he were trying to swim against a fast-moving current. There was a lot of resistance prevented him from moving forward. He stopped casting and dug around in one of his pouches for a lyrium potion. He downed it, then resumed casting. He called upon a spell that could bring a person out of unconsciousness, with the same effect. He was forced to drink a second potion. He paused for a moment, considering what to do next. He was feeling slightly addled from taking two lyrium potions in quick succession. By the time the sensation passed, he had decided to call upon every healing spell that he had ever learned to see if there was something, anything, that would help.

The first light of day could be seen creeping over the horizon when Anders, exhausted from his fruitless spell castings, approached the bench where Fenris was sitting and watching. The mage sat down heavily next to him and sighed in frustration. "I've tried everything I can think of. There's nothing more I can do, at least until Varric returns with Merrill." He yawned heavily and rubbed his eyes. "I need to rest. I'm out of mana and if I take any more lyrium, I'll be in a worse state. Is there somewhere I can sleep, just for an hour?"

Loath as he was to permit the abomination to remain in his house, Fenris knew he was the only person nearby who could help Hawke if her condition deteriorated. "The next room. There's a bed in there."

Anders nodded in gratitude before leaving the elf alone. "Call for me if anything changes."

Fenris waited until the door to the adjoining room clicked shut before he returned to Hawke's side. Pulling up a chair to sit beside her, he tenderly brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She looked so serene. He could remember only one other time that he had seen her look so peaceful - the night he left her, a little over three years earlier. Memories of that night stirred a yearning within him, along with a deep sense of regret. She had looked so beautiful, curled up against him, a light sheen of sweat glistening across her nude body after they had made love.

He leaned over her, a hand gently caressing her cheek. "Don't leave me," he pleaded, before brushing his lips against hers.

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___Tenders kisses caressed his mouth, his neck, and his ears. To have her in his arms, to be joined with her brought him a happiness he thought he would never know. He took her slowly, wanting the sensation to last as long as possible._

___He felt overwhelmed with pleasure as she rolled them over and sat astride him, sinking onto him. He gripped the sheets as she began rolling her hips against his, arching her back as she cried out his name in pleasure..._

Fenris woke with a start and looked, bleary-eyed, at his surroundings. He wasn't in Hawke's room, but his own. He had fallen asleep in the chair with Hawke's cold hand clasped in his. She was still sleeping. He tenderly kissed her palm as he released her hand and settled it across her chest.

The fire was beginning to go out, so he wandered over to the hearth and began coaxing the embers back to life with a poker. It was a good enough distraction whilst he waited for Varric to return.

A short time later, he heard the main door to the mansion open and close again, followed by the familiar voice of the dwarf. He went out onto the landing to greet them. Merrill looked tired, her hair tousled from sleep. In her arms, she carried a rectangular object that was wrapped in a thick cloth. Aveline was more alert, with a concerned look painted across her face. She also carried something with her – the basin that Fenris recognised from the blood magic ritual, though why it had been brought here was a mystery to him.

"How is she?" Aveline asked, her voice trembled slightly, betraying her concern. That Aveline should display emotion so obviously indicated to Fenris that she was as terrified as he at the thought of losing Hawke.

"There has been no change," he said, as he led them into the room. All eyes were immediately on the sleeping woman on the bed. "Anders is asleep in the next room. He did all he could before he needed to rest."

Varric volunteered to wake the mage and left the room, returning promptly with a sleepy Anders shambling behind him. The healer sat down heavily on one of the benches and rubbed his eyes, yawning deeply. Whilst he pulled himself around, Varric and Fenris explained to Merrill and Aveline everything that had happened in the Hightown Estates.

By the time they were finished, Anders was awake enough to inject his own comments, explaining with regret his own failure to rouse Hawke from unconsciousness. "The ritual that was performed," he said, "was unlike anything I've ever seen, and I saw some pretty weird things during in my time with the Wardens."

Merrill sat down cross-legged next to the bed, carefully unwrapping the object she had been carrying, which turned out to be a thick, tattered book.

"What's that, Daisy?" asked Varric.

"When I was the Keeper's First, I made sure that I wrote down everything that I had learned. I always thought of it as my contribution to preserving our clan's history, but now ..." Her voice trailed off and Varric decided not to press her further. It had only been a few weeks since Keeper Marathari had died and Merrill had been exiled from her clan. Understandably, it was a sore spot for the Dalish elf. He watched with sympathetic eyes as she gently caressed the leather-bound cover before opening it.

Merrill spent a few moments leafing through the pages until she found the passage she was looking for. She shifted position, kneeling with the book in one hand and the other hovering over Hawke's still form to begin her own examination. Fenris watched her closely. Despite knowing and travelling with her for the past six years, he still did not trust Merrill and her practise of blood magic. He would have preferred that she not be involved at all, but with Hawke possibly dying from a blood mage's curse, summoning the blood mage to assess the situation was their best option.

He listened closely as Merrill began to chant softly in what he could only assume was Elvhen:

_"Amin kelma tuulo' Sylaise a' tuuva i' nwayla yassene sina inya. Lotesse lirva tela ar' quel almare entulesse. Mirima e loome, nai i kalya engwa tyar i ulka."_

She repeated the words over and over, her eyes closed in concentration. Suddenly she fell silent, her body rigid. The atmosphere in the room tensed. All eyes were on Merrill, waiting to see what would happen next.

Using Hawke as a focus and the chant as a means of entry, Merrill had allowed herself to fall into a trance. Using her knowledge of spirits and demons, she searched for the presence of the demon described by Varric and Anders and followed the esthesis into the Fade, where she was met with a vision of the familiar landscape of Ferelden. For a moment, she believed that she back in the country that she had spent so much of her life, with it's vast fields, the ruined Imperial Highway and the beauty of the Brecilian Forest. She quickly put her wits about her, remembering that the demon involved in the ritual had been a sloth demon and would try to trap her with complacency. She made herself think of running, moving and jumping, willing her feet to move.

She began to wander, surveying the imagined landscape around her, looking for any clue as to how she could help Hawke. A short distance away, she observed a large iron gate, the metal twisted and mangled with sharp spikes sticking out of it. Behind it, a heavy fog concealed whatever lay beyond. Near to the gate, there was little girl with black hair playing alone.

As Merrill took a few steps toward her, the landscape around her suddenly began to shake and change. The sky darkened, the wind began to blow sharply and she saw the little girl running away from the gate. She was about to follow, Merrill felt glued to the spot and surrounded by four ghostly figures that on closer inspection resembled Hawke. Each had an intense aura of negative emotion encompassing them, throbbing with a growing intensity that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew that she needed to break the connection and return to a wakened state before she too became trapped, but she was prevented from moving by an intense fear that had suddenly engulfed her.

As one of spectres reached for her, Merrill felt a hand take hers and pull her out of harm's way. When she looked to her rescuer, Merrill realised that it was the little girl with the black hair who she had seen in front of the gate. Up close, she was more translucent in appearance, like the spectres, though the aura radiating from her was serene, hopeful even. There was also something familiar about her that Merrill couldn't quite put her finger on. She was about to ask the little girl who she was when she smiled at her brightly and Merrill felt herself being gently pushed out of the Fade.

Merrill broke from the trance, collapsing on the floor and panting hard. The shock of her sudden movement instantly broke the tension in the room.

Varric rushed to her side. "Daisy, you okay?"

Merrill tried get up, but felt faint. Varric caught her before she collapsed again and had her sit between his knees, her back against his chest whilst Aveline went to fetch her some water. Anders checked over Hawke again.

"I think," Merrill said, breathlessly. "I think I know what happened to Hawke."

Aveline brought her a cup of water and insisted that she take a moment to calm herself. Merrill brought the cup to her lips and began to gulp, until Anders chided her to take small sips. Merrill then explained the vision in detail, including her encounter with the four spectres and her timely rescue by the black-haired girl. "I don't know what kind of spirit she was, but if she hadn't been there, I would now be trapped like Hawke."

"What's going on exactly?" asked Aveline.

"Hawke has been imprisoned in the Fade. The blood magic ritual that was described, along with what I've seen is the simplest explanation." Merrill reached forward to retrieve her book from where it had fallen when she collapsed. She thumbed through the pages and found another section titled 'Dreamers' and pointed at a passage. "There are stories of corrupted Dreamers being able to do such things – create prisons within the Fade to trap their enemies – but it was only ever done whilst the victim was sleeping, never awake. I assume that this ritual is a variation of the Dreamer's power, made possible by the intervention of a demon."

"That mage boy we helped - Feynriel," Anders remembered, "He was a Dreamer, wasn't he Couldn't we ask him for help?"

Varric shook his head. "Not practical, Blondie. He's still in Tevinter. We'd have to send word and it might take too long to get a response. I don't think it's an option at this point."

"What about the four spectres you saw?" asked Fenris. "What is their purpose? To subdue her? Torture her?"

Anders looked aghast. "Whoever ordered this curse wanted her to suffer."

Varric sighed. "And the people who ordered this, well, it could be anyone. Hawke's made a lot of enemies over the years."

"Why not find the culprit?" Aveline suggested. "You killed most of the blood mages, correct? But what of their leader?" Varric, Anders and Fenris looked to each other in horrid realisation. The Guard Captain had made a good point. In the confusing aftermath of the curse, Anders, Varric and Fenris had been too busy tending to Hawke to see what had become of the ritual leader. If he had managed to escape, he was still out there somewhere and was therefore another link to breaking the curse.

"VEHENDIS!" Fenris shouted, his anger at his own carelessness surfacing. He slammed his fist down on the table and his brands flashed. Aveline reached out to him, but Fenris shrugged her off. He didn't want to be comforted. He felt so helpless. He wanted, no, _needed_ to do something. He was sick of talking. They had achieved little and it was all just speculation with no clear plan of action. He glanced at Hawke, he eyes softened. He couldn't lose her.

"Listen," said Merrill, "The spectres seem to be a crucial part of the curse. Removing them may help to break it, but to do that, someone will need to go into the Fade."

"Is this why you asked me to retrieve the blood mage's basin from the Estates?" Aveline gestured the ceramic on the table."At least he was careless enough to leave it behind," she said, though her words brought little comfort to Fenris.

"It contains the physical remains of the spell. When someone is bitten by a snake, knowing which snake it is makes it easier to treat the poison." She stood up shakily, aided by Varric, and went to the table. She picked up the basin and unwrapped it. "I can use this, along with a few other components, to send three of you into the Fade to retrieve Hawke. It's similar to the ritual that the Keeper used to help you rescue Feynriel."

The rest of the group looked to each other, nervously. It was a big risk, and they did not have the luxury of Keeper Marathari's experience to aid them this time. Fenris, Anders and Aveline had ventured into the Fade before, during their quest with Hawke to rescue Feynriel. Justice had taken full control of Anders, which had assisted them by granting him some protection from the influence of the demons. Fenris and Aveline, on the other hand, had given in to the temptations offered by Pride and Desire demons. Both had regretted the incident deeply, feeling shameful for having betrayed Hawke.

Fenris said without hesistation, "Send me." Despite being fearful he could succumb to temptation again, he knew he had to try.

Anders and Aveline looked at each other, deciding who should be the second Aveline was conflicted, her regret written on her face as clear as day. "She and Bethany are the sisters I never had. I want to help, but I cannot enter the Fade again. I do not trust myself."

Anders nodded, understanding her reasons. They all understood. "I don't think Justice will object to another trip to the Fade. Hopefully, he will be as helpful as last time."

"I trust you, Daisy. You know what you're doing," said Varric.

Merrill laughed nervously, and began to babble. "Right, we need to get started. I'm surprised actually– I mean, I've never done this before, and I'm not even sure it'll work, but it's a chance, isn't it?"

Fenris rolled his eyes, whilst Aveline put her hands on Merrill's shoulders. "Relax. You'll be fine. Just get everything ready."

Merrill took a deep breath, and then began gathering what she needed. She placed the basin back on the table and retrieved three lyrium potions from her pouch and an additional two from Anders. She uncorked the vials and poured them into the basin. She then retrieved a small dagger from her belt and pricked the tip of her finger and added a single drop of blood to the basin, the mixture sizzling loudly as it made contact.

"I need a drop of blood from each of you," she said, addressing Fenris, Varric and Anders. "You'll want to make yourselves comfortable. When I add the last drop of blood from Hawke, I'll have to begin the spell." One by one, they compiled, pricking a finger and squeezing a drop of blood into the basin as Merrill had done.

Meanwhile, Aveline set about gathering pillows and blankets from the other rooms. He laid them out on the floor as makeshift bedrolls. "I'll contact Knight Captain Cullen to see if I can get Bethany special dispensation to leave the Circle for a time. She'll need to know what has happened, and with Anders in the Fade, we'll need a healer here in case something happens," she said.

"That's a good idea," agreed Fenris, removing the heavier pieces of his armour. He then lay down on his back and shifted himself into a comfortable position.

Varric removed his long coat and wrapped it around Bianca. "See if you can get Rivani and Choir Boy to help track down the blood mage who did this. Hawke's gonna want answers when she wakes up," said Varric, confidently. He lovingly stroked his adored crossbow before placing her gently in an empty chest.

Merrill approached the bed where Hawke lay, a dagger and the basin in her hands. "I don't know what you will face. Demons can be elaborate with their traps, so be careful."

"How will we get back?" asked Varric, lying down on the bed roll between Fenris and Anders.

"If you break the curse, you should all return to the waking world, I think," Merrill explained. "If Hawke should- if the worst happens, you all may be trapped in the Fade forever."

"Understood," said Fenris. He was well aware of the risk they were taking, but Hawke was worth it, worth everything to him.

"May the Maker watch over you all," wished Aveline.

The last thing Fenris saw was the blood drop falling from Hawke's pricked finger into the basin. There was a loud hiss, followed by the sound of Merrill chanting. A thick, white fog appeared before his eyes, and then … nothing.


End file.
